


Sunshine

by Mimblewimble



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Love, Drug Abuse Mentioned, Human AU, childhood angst, neglectful parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2748146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimblewimble/pseuds/Mimblewimble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble in a human AU where Ludwig and Gilbert are growing up with a neglectful father after their mother's death. Based upon an RP so some elements may not make complete sense. Minor Ger/Ita</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunshine

As far back as he Ludwig remember, smiling was not a normal concept in his home. His brother tried, of course, but he was too filled with resentment and anger towards their father to help raise someone only two years younger than him.

He considered it normal, of course, the quiet days filled with silently playing with toys, silently eating breakfast as his brother tried to reach the top of the stove. Sometimes the ghost would appear. He called him Dad back in those days, the words coming from Gilbert and sticking for a short time.

Ludwig didn't know much about the man he called Dad. He wandered around the house like a lost spirit, trying to piece together himself long enough to help cook dinner. There was a pain in his eyes he couldn't understand and it intensified when the familiar blue eyes settled on him.

So he continued his days silently playing with toys, waiting for his brother to come back from school so he could listen to something other than the faint footsteps upstairs and the occasional wind picking up.

He could remember the day he realized that this wasn't normal. He waited for his brother to come back from school, his nose pressing against the cold glass of the window and he watched as parents greeted their children, picking them up, hugging them and _smiling_. He knew Gilbert felt it, too, the confusion, the hurt, the anger. He could see it on his face when he walked in, trying to avoid the sights of what they should have had.

It was the first time he had seen his brother cry.

Everyone else's parents took pictures of them at the bus stop.

Everyone else's parents packed them a lunch.

Everyone else's parents picked them up

-smiled at them

-hugged them

_-cared about them_

All they had was a ghost.

  
When he was brought to the neighbors house for the first time is when he met _her_.

Or _her_  as he remembered back then.

The small girl with the strange accent and stubborn curl.

But more importantly, the small girl with the brilliant smile.

He followed her like an imprinted duckling. It was unlike anything he had seen before, felt before. Someone looking at him and smiling at him with such joy. He had a _friend_. He had someone to talk to, someone who wanted him to be loud, who wanted him to run and play. He had someone who he held onto so desperately he often scared her. He had a little piece of sunshine waiting for him every day. He even felt himself smiling, not caring about anything other than the smile that waited for him beyond his neighbor's door. The loud singing, bright smiling, picky eating, hug-giving wonder that was Feliciano Vargas.

And then it was gone.

Everything disappeared and he only had the faint recollection of warmth when he woke up in the hospital somewhere in Germany.

And he wailed, he screamed and cried and threw 5 years worth of temper tantrums in his child-sized bed with tubes, wires, and plaster holding his body together. Nurses came in to console him and Gilbert got him down to a soft crying when he came in, trying to explain about the car, about where they were.

He didn't care, he was missing something. He felt scared, lost and cold and he couldn't explain why.

The ghost came in soon after and one look took all the air and energy from Ludwig's body. The absolute sadness in his eyes felt like a punch in the gut. He immediately stopped crying, bowing his head down and looking up only at the man's hands as they gently touched him, just enough to assure him he was there.

Ludwig didn't cry over his lost sunshine after that.

  
They went back to quietly playing, quietly eating and quietly living. This time it was in a new home far away from where they once lived. Things faded slowly back into a twisted sense of normalcy that neither he nor his brother were ever completely settled with.

When Ludwig went to school the praise was a new experience. He found himself to be a quick learner and teachers gushed over his polite manners and his intelligence. Some part of him made the connection that maybe the sadness would disappear if he could make his father proud.

So he worked. He brought home every 100%, every A+, every report card that had no negatives on it. He brought home art projects, book reports, science experiments- putting them up on the refrigerator and waiting.

Setting them on the table, just in case the refrigerator was skipped over.

Putting them on his bedroom door, because maybe those were at a better height.

Sliding them under his father's door.

They all ended up in the same place- neatly stacked on the kitchen table with a small note: "You left this"

No smile, no congratulations, no praise, no hugs, no warmth.

So he tried harder, trying harder material, working above his grade level and presenting his father with more. More perfect grades, perfect attendance, perfect posture, perfect language.

_"Yes, Sir" "No, Sir"_

When did he stop calling him "Dad"?

Gilbert became the polar opposite of him. The anger and resentment festered and grew, making him rebellious and determined to get something out of his father, even if it was just anger.

Ludwig had to admit at some points he was jealous, wanting to have conversations with his father, even if they were arguments. Something, even anger, was better than this dull acknowledgement of existence.

But, even if Gilbert was turning into the rebellious child, he was still there for Ludwig. He was always there just as he always had been. He was there for nightmares when he was little. He was there for Ludwig when he struggled with homework. He was there on birthdays, holidays, snow days, summer days.

But the screaming matches got worse. Gilbert would leave and come back in the morning.

He would leave and come back in a day.

In a week.

And finally there came the day when he left

And never came back.

Ludwig tried to understand. He really did. He tried to comprehend why his brother would leave him.

The answer was given to him in the form of a phone call from the hospital stating Gilbert had been in for a drug overdose and was being picked up by a friend.

They kept in contact after that, short phone calls here and there to check up on each other. They met for birthdays and holidays, exchanging brief information about their lives. Gilbert was getting clean, and Ludwig was still clipping papers to the fridge.

_Only one of them was moving forward._

Gilbert had new friends, he was going to a boarding school.

He remembered the day he told his father he would be attending the boarding school as well. His eyes did a rare glance upwards at his father's, catching the same look that he had given him as a child. The sad, faraway look that he always had. The look that took Ludwig's breath away and pushed the voice to tell him it was his fault. He wasn't good enough, he wasn't trying enough. He wasn't enough to make his father happy, to make his father proud.

He left the next day, moving in.

Nothing changed the first few weeks. He was the same as ever, quiet, stern, alone, and studying to get better, to always get better, to try and be enough.

Gilbert forced him into going to the football practice, grinning and announcing to the entire team and anyone else around that his "precious baby brother" would be joining the team.

After the moment of embarrassment, Ludwig did well at the practice, heading back to the locker rooms and rummaging around for a spare towel he found something a bit more expected. Upon opening the door to the linen closet, he stared the face looking back at him, both in a short stunned silence.

Then the boy let out an inhuman shriek, letting out a stream of words in a thick accent that Ludwig struggled to decipher what the panicked words were telling him. He jolted back as arms wrapped around him. He could make out between the crying the person was begging for him not to tell the coach he skipped out on practice. Relaxing and realizing Ludwig didn't find some traumatized victim, he grabbed the boy's arms, holding him back at arm's-length. "What the hell are you talking about?" He blurted out, perhaps a bit too angrily since the slight form in his hands started to tremble.

"Don't tell the coach I was hiding! I just wanted to take a nap and not get yelled at and then everyone started coming in so I climbed in here and got stuck and then you opened the door! Please don't tell the coach I was skipping practice! He's so scary!" The boy wailed.

Ludwig let go, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a long sigh, "I'm not going to tell anyone. Calm down." He reached past the boy, grabbing a towel. His eye caught on the stubborn curl sticking out from the rest of the brunette hair. He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on the nagging memory but distracted away from it by the boy talking about his favorite football players and the pretty girls they dated.

"Ah! I'm Feliciano Vargas, by the way. What is your name?" Feliciano piped up, suddenly realizing that his talking might be more effective if he were to introduce himself first. Clearly no longer seeing Ludwig as a threat to his afternoon naptime secret, he was eagerly smiling, bouncing on his feet.

Ludwig frowned, feeling a nagging sensation somewhere in his mind at the name, "... Ludwig Beilschmidt." He answered finally, looking shocked as the Italian hooked their arms together, quickly pulling him out of the locker room with the promise of Italian food.

"Ludwig, we are going to be good friends." Brown eyes looked up at his.

Ludwig flushed, "Friends?" He recited, not sure if his tone was more confused or shocked. Either way, those brown eyes did something to him, The smile on his face reminded him of a warm summer and sunshine. Even if he didn't know the strange Italian...

The sunshine sure felt nice again.

 


End file.
